


The Great YouTuber Slash Fiction of 2017 (and 2018)

by PigeonDreams



Category: Holy Trinity (YouTube RPF), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Youtube RPF
Genre: 413, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universes, Azlinne's Prompts, Casual Affair, Cheating, Cliffhangers, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Drama, Exchange students, Fanfiction within the fanfiction, Fluff and Crack, Fun, Funny, Homestuck - Freeform, Humor, Humour, I know they are straight in real life, I promise to finish this, I ship everything, I'm back, It gets (chocolate) saucy, Kissing, London, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, M/M, Mass shipping, Mathematically your OTP will show up, Mentioned previous sexuality crises, Mermaids, Natepat, No Smut, Now featuring Septiplier, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Phan - Freeform, Regret, SBURB, Septiplier - Freeform, Shipping, Ships added as they come, Sloppy Makeouts, Threats, UNHOLY, YouTube, YouTube is my life, antisepticeye, at least I think so, but other than that no homophobia, crack shipping, crack ships, first fic, gays in space, girlfriends what girlfriends, i'm trash, if you need to be cleansed the church always likes new members, now leaking into 2018, otp, please hate and berate, practice, sorry - Freeform, still cute though, what have I created, with political opinions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PigeonDreams/pseuds/PigeonDreams
Summary: Nine YouTubers. 36 potential pairings.Goal: a thousand words for each pairing.This, my children, is a new kind of crazy.





	1. robertisnotonfire - Internet Famous

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, but just in case: this is a work of fiction and it is not a reflection of the people it's about.
> 
> Now, on with this disaster! I numbered nine people and have a random number generator select what ship I'm doing.
> 
> If you don't know who RobertIDK is, he does lots of YouTube fanstuff, including many of the people in this fic. Check him out!

So what.

It was just a simple tweet.

It was just one of your videos.

_Yours_.

It was just that your subscriber count had doubled, then tripled, almost quadrupled at this point.

It was just nine simple words and a link:

  
_@danisnotonfire_  
_So don't cry, craft has a theme song now:_

It was just that, that and then a million phangirls. Because once you had one fandom hooked, the rest came a-following, and a-watching, and a-clicking that red button.

Unreal. It's unreal.

The views come in, and eventually so does the ad-rev, and soon enough, you've got money, and soon enough, you've saved for a trip.

A con. You'll go to a con you guess. Only fair to see the people that made you, you suppose, famous--

"Hey, are you RobertIDK from YouTube?"

It was your first fan encounter. It was clumsy and awkward. You stared stunned until your fan there was polite enough to call you back here, down to earth.

Sorry. You apologised, took the unofficially mandatory picture, and went back to your dazed out world which suddenly seems more realistic than the real one.

You flew. To the con, of course. Have people meet you and you meet people. Including your favorite YouTubers. You would have thought it would be weirder, considering that you did write weird songs about them, but they seem cool with it, and you guessed they've seen stranger things in the Land of the Internet, the World of Wi-Fi.

Dan seemed to like you most though. They were all nice, of course, but Dan's next to you the whole time, asking you questions about everything and anything.

Your family. Where'd you grow up. How old are you, when's your birthday. How long have you been playing guitar. Why. How long have you been songwriting. Do you want a career in music. Would you agree to a record deal if you somehow got the offer. Know any good jokes. How have you been watching me, yes, Phil too I suppose. And on and on until he says:

"Are you free this evening?"

"Um, yeah, why?"

"Because we should meet up after this," he said, gesturing to the convention around you. "I know a place, nearby that I think you'll enjoy. Found it last time I came to this con."

"Um sure," you were willing, of course, but you were surprised by the invitation. Dan just invited you to hang out with him. _Dan_ _Howell_. Dan **Motherfucking** Howell. Invited you. _You_. The fanboy loser.

"Great," he responds.

"See you and Phil there, then."

"No." He said Phil's not coming. Nobody else would be there either. It'll be just him and you, you and him. He had a mischevious glint in his eye, and a certain kind of smile.

And you would swear Phil was giving you a glare, but that's not possible, because there is no reason to have given you one, because Phan wasn't real, you'd just been on Tumblr too long, and besides, Phil didn't seem like the glaring type anyway.

Hours later, the convention calmed down, the influx of fans decreased, and excitment headed to bed and waited until tomorrow morning. You're done with exciting events for today.

And so it's just you and Dan, after the chaos off to head to wherever.

You attempted to summon a taxi. Don't, says Dan, he'll be escorting you there himself. Then he grabbed your hand and started to tug your arm in a direction, like a toddler that saw a toystore.

It's called El Alma del Sol, the place. It's a Mexican restaurant. There were tables, a bar, and tacky decor. In one corner, a band played music, and a few couples danced in front of the stage. Somehow, the atmosphere was both busy and serene.

You two are sat at the bar. He asked about your day. Did you enjoy your time at this con? Yes, you tell him, it was interesting being on the other side of the signing table.

He laughed. Still had the glint in his eyes. He said he remembers that feeling, saying you'll get used to it soon.

"How do you feel about this?" He asked.

"What?"

About being an internet star. Oh. Yeah. That.

So what. It's just internet fame.

He did the laugh again. "You're dealing with it better than I was. I suppose you've got a better handle on it then I did. Makes sense, you are a older than I was."

He told you all about his teenage years on YouTube, surprised at the growth of his channel, and all the mini panic attacks he'd have when he uploaded the videos. He said it felt weird to be some kind of famous.

"What was it like, ya know, meeting your YouTube idols?" You asked. It seemed like a decent question, considering you're now almost at the same level as those you'd fanboyed over. Sure, you exaggerated a bit in you videos, but you really did love your YouTubers.

"You mean, Phil?" You nodded. "It was certainly strange. It was like-- oh, the thanks miss."

The lady gave you chips and your drinks. As soon as Dan got his food, he took a few bites, and then redirected the conversation back to you.

Weird. He kept avoiding the topic of Phil. Weirder still, you heard his phone vibrate, and saw the screen light up with texts from the aforementioned smol bean.

Are they fighting? You wondered, but you thought it would be rude to ask.

So, you do what anyone else would: keep socializing.

He keeps wanting to know more about you. You're running out of things to say, there only so much to know about you.

"Why don't you tell me a bit about you?" You tried.

"You watch my videos, you already know so much about me. You've seen all the potential I have to be socially awkward."

"Well I'm running out of things to say!"

He did the laugh thing a third time, then leaned up to your ear and whispers.

"Then don't say anything. Come dance with me."

Suddenly, you're yanked off your barstool and dragged to the the dancing area in front of the stage.

It's clear that neither of you knew any sort of partner dance, so your steps were uncoordinated and off-beat. It doesn't matter to either of you though, and you were both laughing, loudly, although you could barely hear yourselves because the band was so close to you.

But all good things must come to an end, and the place had to close for the night. You and Dan were forced to exit the place at twelve am.

But you had fun. "Should we do this again tommorrow?"

"Definitely."

You started in the direction of the hotel, seeing if there are any cabs that happened to be available, when Dan shouted something.

"Wait, Robert! One last thing!"

Dan leaned in to give you a swift kiss on the lips. "See you tomorrow!"

Yes. Definitely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I do good?
> 
> One a scale of one to ten how much do you hate me now?
> 
> Please, hate and berate. I'm trying to get the basics down here before I do a big project.
> 
> Next will be Jelix.


	2. Jelix - Quizzes and Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacksepticeye/Pewdiepie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not real. None of this fic is real.
> 
> No disrespect to their girlfriends. I like those two. Quality content. 10/10 would watch again
> 
> How tf did I write 1,800 words tho?

"Do you think if were got together, actually, that the media would start to write about that? And not writing about the whole... racist thing."

"I think that that would be a nice change of pace for a while."

"Actually, no, 'cause then they'd misrepresent that, and then uh, they'd probably make us out to be some sort of homicidal maniacs or something."

"Yeah, that's probably a bad choice."

You look at the picture again. No, you stare longingly at the picture. He's beautiful man, with lusious blond hair, ocean-blue eyes, soft skin and a cute little nose. That flower crown frames his head like a halo.

This quiz is way too on the nose here. Will people be suspicious? No, only a crazy fangirl or dumbass fanfic writer would take this and twist it into something it's not supposed to be.

So you decide to turn this into a joke. Try to get him in another quiz. But the second quiz is less clever, or just doesn't have coincidence on its side, and your result is different.

Crabstickz. Ew. Not in a million years.

And then you go hunting for another quiz, trying to get matched up with Felix again, but you are unable to repeat the first quiz's result.

Like it matters. You've got the real deal.

You end the recording with the usual like a boss! And turn the camera off. You decide now is a good a time as any to contact your boyfriend.

**Hey felix**

He responds two minutes later.

**Hey jack :)**

**What's up**

**youll never guess what**

**What?**

**I was filming today**  
**like i do**

  
**I couldve guessed that**

**yes haha i know**  
**but I decided to do youtuber boyfriend quizzes to find my true love**

**O rly?**  
**So who am i gonna have to keep an eye on**

**dont worry, i got you**

**Rly?**

**Yes**

**Well if the quiz says i'm your youtuber bf thdn clearly we're meant for each other**  
***than**

**obviously**  
**it was filmed though. I wanted to check w/ you before i gave to my editor and posted it**

**I don't mind, it's not like theyll be able to guess that we are in a relationship**

**yeah good point lol**

**Gtg Marzias calling**  
**Bye my Irish potato**

**bye you swedish meatball :)**

The conversation ends there. And like always, you wish it was just a little longer. Long-distance relationships aren't the most fun, but at least you have his videos to watch. Still, living in a house together would be...

Your train of thought is interrupted when, as if she was cued to, Signe arrives home. You delete the conversation and close the tab, and head to greet her at the door.

"Hey Sean," she says, kissing you on the the cheek.

"Hey sweetheart," you respond nonchalantly, as if you hadn't been contacting the _actual_ love of your life less than a minute ago.

You didn't mean to. You and Felix, of course. It just happened. You were there, here was there. He looked hot, he thought the same about you. First blue eyes connected, then pink lips. And it continued on since then.

But Felix had a girlfriend. And she would not be happy with this. And neither would your girlfriend. Besides, how would YouTube react? Sure, some fans ship it (you've seen some weird-ass shit on the internet) and most wouldn't mind, but there's always the crazies. Besides, he's kind of a big deal, since he's got more than fifty million subscribers... There'd be endless press, even if it was well meaning. After all, this is the internet and...

"Sean?" Your girlfriend calls from earth. "You've zoned out again."

"Oh? Yeah. Sorry, just thinking about a video game... As usual..."

She laughs. "Of course. What else do you think about?"

"Lots of other things. Like, you!" _And Felix_...

"Aww," she coos. She kisses you again. "I'm gonna order dinner. What do you want?"

"The usual!" You yell, heading back to your recording space. She picks up your phone and begins goes to order. You you decide to screw around on your computer for about half an hour before Signe calls you for dinner. Man, that place in good, but it takes a damn long time arrive.

"Coming," you say, heading to the kitchen to dine on your lovely, heavenly, unhealthy takeout food. Man, I'm starving, you think to yourself. But when you arrive to the dining area, you see her holding your meal, not in a position to set on the table, but of in a position to--

She throws it at your face.

"Jaysus! What was that for?" She glowers at you.

"Your phone has some... interesting pictures..." Oh. Yeah. Your girlfriend used your phone to call the place. She shows some, uh, not-for-bros pictures than might have ended up on your device over time, for personal reasons, of course.

"Ummmm...." You start to scratch the back of your neck.

"You've been cheating on me! Fucking cheating on me!" Signe yells. Well she does have every right. Kind of a dick move, man.

"Uh... Yeah..." You're barely audible, muffled by guilt.

"My fucking God! How long?" She screeches like a tea kettle.

"Technically, I started that relationship before this one, so I'm actually cheating on him with you..." Not a good response.

"You came after me even though you already had a boyfriend? God! You're absolutely disgusting!" Signe is boiling hot, and ready to attack.

You mumble something that's probably supposed to be an apology, but realize its worthlessness.

She storms out of your kitchen, dissappointed with you. Dissappointed in all men, really.

Grabbing a suitcase from the closet, she starts tossing her possessions in, not giving a fuck about organization. You watch dumbfoundedly, mind catching up to the moment.

"I thought you were straight," she says somewhere in her angry mutterings.

"I thought so too," you whisper back, head hanging low.

And after what seems to be a short eternity, she's done packing. Your now ex heads to your doorway, gets her keys out of her purse, and chucks them at the floor. She gives you a pained look and a sigh before exiting stage left. You feel like a piece of shit. You're worried on her behalf, though, since you don't know where she's staying tonight. You hope she stays safe, at least.

People notice fairly quickly. Signe's videos have a new background. You've been slightly more drained than before. Your friends and fans send you their pities.

You never really loved her. You liked her as a friend, yes, and thought she was pretty. So you choose her as a beard. Of course, in not like you needed one, but the apartment feels so static and cold with its lone occupant. And also, it's nice not to have to cook food every night, goddammit.

Of course, who you'd really like here is Felix. Or the two of you in his house. Doesn't really matter much, but fuck they're right about the distance being a huge pain in the ass. Especially the relationships that are secret, because then when you have a problem you can't complain about it to anyone.

**Hey. ;)**

Felix sends you a message. You respond:

**Top of the mornin!**

**So hows the single life treating you?**

**not very well since im not single**

**O rly?**

**yes rly**

**Who you dating?**

**Oh just some beautiful man from Sweden**

**Rly?**

**-Yeah, he isa youtuber too**

**I see  
Wat does he film**

**Only the highest quality content :)**

**Better than mine?**

**yes like a thousand times better than your bullshit**

**Oh  
** **I see how it is.  
** **You wanna go, bro  
** **YOU WANNA GO**

**yes I wanna go  
go right into your bed ;)**

**Yre one smooth mf**

And the two of you go on flirting for a bit longer. Until you decide to ask a question that's been on you mind recently:

**Felix**

**Yeah?**

**Do you think we will ever come out? And tell everyone? About our thing?**

His reply takes a bit.

**Possibly  
Maybe one day**

_Maybe one day._ You aren't satisified by that answer. _Maybe_. Maybe you can tell the truth one day. Maybe you can be honest about yourselves one day. _Maybe one day._

Honestly, you would like the coming out to be sooner than later. It'd be a huge weight off your shoulders. But it would only complicate matters futher. Marzia. Crazies. The damn press. Still, it would be nice to not hide the love you two had. But would it be worth it?

You get to find out only a few months later.

You weren't ready.

You and him were at Pax, and afterwards you split off from your friends to hang out. It's what boyfriends do. You do it when you're in a relationship. Hell, your friends joke about the you guys being together. They have no idea.

You're heading to a place, but you don't know where yet, since your boyfriend is surprising you.

You go to what appears to be a park. It's a romantic place, under the hues of twilight and decorative lanterns. Hedges beat you vertically by a foot and a half if not more. In flowerbeds rest acacias and begonias. There's a bench under a couple lemon trees that would shield you even further, and you seat yourselves there.

"Haven't seen you in months," you say, leaning in flirtatiously. He comes in for a kiss.

You don't hold back. Sure, you talk all the time, and can FaceTime whenever, but nothing feels as great as physical contact. You've got tongues in each other's mouths, and hands on each other's hips.

Both in that moment, and in that video.

It was posted on Twitter. Some asshole had apparently followed you two to the park. Judging by the angle and the branches, they had somehow climbed into the lemon tree above you.

They caption was particularly charming:  
_@gregissklorfrw  
Lol look at these two they cant keep there hands off each other_

The internet has quite possibly exploded. Every reaction happens, from support to homophobia and just downright apathy.

Personally, you appreciate the apathetic ones the most, considering the madness. You were right in your prediction-- the media went crazy. Well, at least they hadn't twisted you into homicidal maniacs, at least, not on any sane website.

God, it's a mess. And it's not exactly being easy on your relationship.

You two have been stressed, and admittedly taking it out on each other. You've been fighting a lot recently, over stupid things, which you would have previously just agreed to disagree on. Your content is reflecting this, as you're much less bouncy than usual. Neither of you are responding to comments about the video, and you haven't mentioned each other in public. It's been a wreck of a time, and honestly, at this point you're just hoping and praying that you'll get through this together. That this will all blow over and everyone will be distracted by the new shiny news story. That you guys survive this tsunami.

With your relationship, in tact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it or do I deserve BAYTINGS
> 
> Fun fact: I wrote part of this in my parents' closet while playing hide and seek with my sister. It took her and hour to find me. Dunno why though. I'M IN THE SAME DAMN PLACE EVERYTIME, SIS. I JUST GET BETTER AT CONCEALING MYSELF EVERYTIME.
> 
> Next is Markiplier/AmazingPhil.


	3. Amaziplier - Adjust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AmazingPhil and Markiplier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Phan and all, but I feel this ship could float...

_I should go to sleep._

You should. It's 3 am. You've got plans for tomorrow. Nothing revolutionary, but you are spending the day with your girlfriend, Amy. It'll be good for you two, since you haven't spent a day together in what feels like forever.

You're sure you're gonna have fun, you think as you climb into your bed. What the fuck, you think as you wake up in a completely different one.

It's a nice duvet you've got here. It's got blue and green squares in a grid. You recognize it from somewhere. Actually it looks like that one guy on Youtube's...

Phil Lester is in your bed.

Correction: Phil Lester is nude in your bed, and so are you. And this is technically his bed, and how'd you guys get here, and why are you in London, and how'd you end up doing it, and a thousand other questions race across your mind.

Time to solve this mystery, you suppose. You get up, put your clothes on, and head out of the room. Maybe you'll see Dan, and he can explain this to you.

Dan's not in the living room, though. Well, that's fine. Maybe he's sleeping, maybe he went out to shop, maybe he did something similar and slept with Jacksepticeye.

You sit on the couch. You consider making breakfast in the kitchen, but you're kinda nervous about touching anything. So you've decided to stay put until someone wakes up and explains everything. Yup. Just sit here. Patiently. Not freaking out at all. Just look at all the things in this room. Rug. Wall. Cieling. Light. Coffee table. Plushies on the coffee table. Look it's little Phil and...

Is that a... _Markiplier_ plushie next to the Phil one?

Now, you don't want to make any assumptions in your panicked state, but you know, you and Dan aren't exactly identical.

Of course, you've never actually went to go buy one, but you're pretty sure Dan's plushie was not wearing flannel, and it's definitely not that tan...

Yup it's Markimoo, you confirm, picking it up off the coffee table. Hell, it's even got your classic pink moustache.

Okay, now it's okay to freak out, you decide. Fuck, it's more than okay to freak out, you think when you find a picture of you and Phil together, in, oh fucking fuck, that's fucking Japan, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuuuuuck_.

Have you replaced Dan Howell? No, that makes no fucking sense. You don't just replace people. That's not scientifically possible.

Or it is, because you open up what should be Dan's room and find all the shades of black and very, very, dark gray are now red and pink. Yup, this a Markiplier room, for sure. You've even got the duvet Dan has, only with the proper colors for Markiplier.

Your phone's charging here. You pick it up, unlock it (you've got the same passcode in this universe), and google yourself.

Phil and Mark. You two meeting in 2013. Moving to London. Going to Japan. Amaziplier. Fangirls shipping it, although there was no official online confirmation. But considering how you woke up this morning, you're going with _it's canon_.

You do get some relief knowing that your channel is pretty much the same. Sure, there's a bit of shuffling around with the videos, but the content is the same: you play video games, famous for the horror genre. Well, that'll be easy to adjust to.

Everything else, on the other hand...

Footsteps. Phil had been roused from his sleep, and was now standing at your door, giggling.

"Up and on the internet, as usual."

"Uh, yeah." You try to smile genuninely. You really have nothing against the man, but you're not sure if you want to be his boyfriend, even in an alternate universe.

He looks you up and down. "Why are you in last night's clothes?" Oh yeah. You would have a closet and wardrobe in this dimension.

"Umm..." Think of an excuse, think of an excuse...

_Weeeeeeeeeee woooooooo weeeeeeeeee..._

Saved by the kettle. Phil goes to make what you assume to be tea, since this is England, and you change as fast as humanly possible.

Walking into the kitchen, you find that the Brit is preparing breakfast for the two of you.

Well, you're in a new universe, have a whole new house, a completely different lifestyle, are bumping uglies with someone you wouldn't have ever considered dating, but there's no reason to not sit down and enjoy breakfast.

You pretend this is normal. Maybe, if you don't react negatively, it will be revealed this is all an act, a dumbass prank. It's elaborate, sure, but there's no way this makes any sense. Yeah, this is stupid. No way this is real. All bullshit. You cycle though these reassurances until you finish your breakfast.

Phil isn't laughing. He seems serious. Well, he's easygoing and sweet, so he's got a small smile on his face that's softly humming, but this is just his average morning.

You check your phone again. The internet dispells any of your remaining hopes.

_No_...

You leave the kitchen. Trying to act calm while your internally screaming, you wander around the apartment like an idiot. You're trying to find _it_ , the one piece of _familar_ , the one piece of _home_...

Your recording setup. You find it, not as soon as you would've liked. It's up the stairs. It's different, but it's got the same purpose, same function, and that's the best you can do for yourself currently.

Not having any idea where to resume your gameplays, you start a new game, a horror game, because nothing can scare you more than the situation you're stuck in right now.

It helps. It's as cathartic as you need it to be. Thank God too, because otherwise you might beat up Phil, and you'd like to avoid that. He'd done nothing to deserve that.

After recording, you decide to research your new world and new relationship.

As you might imagine, you make not infrequent appearances on AmazingPhil. It's the strangest thing. You watch this version of yourself, invested in this world, adjusted to this life. You make eye contact with a person with your body on the computer screen. In his eyes, there's passion for a man you'd probably never learn to love...

Speak of the devil. You hear Phil climbing up the stairs.

He enters. "Louise just called. She wants to meet us for lunch tomorrow, since we haven't seen each other in what seems like forever... Are you okay?" It's a concerned look he's giving you.

You remove the shock from your face. "Um, yeah. Horror game. Still a little you know... But! That means it's good, and everyone will eat it up. So... Yeah... Lunch with Louise is fine." Or it will be, once you find out who Louise is.

"Okay, good. I'll put it in the calendar, then. Enjoy your horror games!" Stepping over a couple of cables, Phil leans in for a kiss.

It's nothing special, at least for a couple. It's just a quick peck on the lips. But it's warm and electric. You're finding it quite pleasant, for a kiss from a man you're not even into...

Or are you? You might question that fact, looking into those beautiful, bright blue eyes. It's easy to see why fangirls dream of him at night. You watch him exit the recording area, getting a nice view of the rear. Not doing bad in that department, are we?

Alright, he's hot.

Look. You currently stuck in a universe where you've got a whole different past. You've got different friends, a different plan for the future, a different house, a different relationship. You got so much shit to figure out. It wouldn't hurt--hell, it would help-- if you find your current boyfriend attractive. It would help to enjoy the kisses. It would help _a lot_ ; it'd be one less thing to have to adjust to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I do this quick it'll be out by midnight.
> 
> If not idc
> 
> Edit: I did it at 11:59!
> 
> Next is Jack and PBG.


	4. SepticButter - 413 Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacksepticeye/PeanutButterGamer
> 
> A (late) 413 chapter, since I'm a Filthy Homestuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fuckin bitch to write
> 
> Hussie's style is harder than you think
> 
> And having to build all of the chemistry myself damn it
> 
> But it's an early update
> 
> Now it's 2 am and tomorrow is school after spring break so nighty-night

>YouTubers: Play harmless game that will certainly not end in armageddon.

SBURB was the new game; everybody was talking about it. It wouldn't be out for another MONTH, but the game devs had picked a few YouTubers to give out EARLY COPIES to. You were one of the LUCKY FEW who be recieving one today.

Everyone thought the choices were strange. Sure, it'd make sense to give copies to people like PEWDIEPIE, MARKIPLIER, and JACKSEPTICEYE. But it didn't seem to be a POPULARITY CONTEST, as a couple of SMALLER YOUTUBERS like ROBERTIDK and ECHO GILLETTE would be receiving them.

But what the WEIRDEST PART was is that NON-GAMING YOUTUBERS like ROSANNA PANSINO and SUPERWOMAN were getting the game, whether THEY WANTED IT OR NOT. There was no choice in the matter.

Today is THE DAY you will get the game via MAIL. You are VERY EXCITED, to say the least. Very little is known about SBURB, but soon, all would be REVEALED.

>Austin: Wait patiently for your new game to arrive in the mail.

You don't want to wait patiently, DANG IT. It's a new video game, and video games are kinda YOUR LIFE.

>Fine. Wait IMPATIENTLY for the game.

Nope. It's not coming any faster.

This may have to do with the fact that your MAIL doesn't arrive for another FIVE HOURS, GENIUS.

Five long hours.

>Waste these next five hours doing something.

You've decided to derp around on the WORLDWIDE WEB. It's a great place to throw away several hours of your life.

Heading to Twitter, most of what you find is hype for SBURB. Apparently, Mark and MatPat have already recieved their respective copies. They haven't updated since, though, so you have no idea what how Sburb is.

The most recent post is from JACK, who says he is just about to INSERT THE GAME DISK.

You hear something. It's coming from outside. It's the MAIL TRUCK. With your copy of the game?

>Look outside window.

The RED MAIL FLAPPY-SWINGY-DEALY FLIPPY-LEVER or whatever is up!

Which, actually, is quite odd, considering that its purpose is to notify the MAILPERSON that they're supposed to PICK UP mail, not that you have RECEIVED it. Your mailperson is a DUMBASS.

>Disregard postal stupidity and get your dang game!

Alright, Alright! You're going, you're going!

Um...

There's a fucking BATHTUB IN YOUR HALLWAY!

>Reader: be done with exposition and setup and skip ahead to the goddamned plot!

You are now AUSTIN, hours in the future, BUT NOT THAT MANY.

You are in the land of TOOTHPASTE AND DILDOS, and are currently in the midst of an INTENSE BATTLE. You are surrounded by LARGE IMPS, who are, due to you and your coplayers prototypings, a combination of: a banana, Peepachu, an Arstotzkan hat and Pixel.

Personally, you'd rather not fight something with your ferret's face, but you'll do what IT TAKES TO SURVIVE.

Currently, you're attempting to fight them off with your WEAPON: a GIANT FLOATING SLEDGEHAMMER which you have fashioned to be controlled by a NINTENDO SWITCH REMOTE.

You think it is pretty cool--but that's NOT THE POINT THERE'S SOMETHING BEHIND YOU!

>Hit it with the GIANT FLOATING SLEDGEHAMMER.

Ha! You have successfully defeated another attempt on your life--

And another one has managed to grab your hammer.

Fuck. You are now officially doomed.

>Prepare for your death.

You say your final words to PIXELSPRITE. You tell her to bury you with all your consoles, and that she is welcome to the rest of the ferret food.

She says that you are being stupid, and don't touch her, she hasn't had her second prototyping yet.

Suddenly, a figure comes from the sky!

>Jack: Enter Lotad.

You have just passed though your second gate to see your CLIENT PLAYER, Austin, disarmed and defenseless, about to be killed by a giant imp!

>Have a heroic moment of absolute badassery!

Raising your SEPTIC SWORD, you challenge these MOTHERFUCKERS to go though you first!

Gulp.

>STRIFE!

You take on the ARMY OF IMPS!

And are doing fairly well with your AMETEUR sword skills.

Austin and Pixelsprite stare astoundedly as GRIST falls from where monsters once stood.

>Austin: thank your knight in shining armor!

\-------[Begin Dialoglog]-------

Austin: Um... Jack... That was awesome!  
Jack: Oh... Uh... Thanks...  
Austin: No, thank you! You saved me from certain death!  
Jack: Oh, it was nothing...  
Austin: Nothing? Dude, I owe you my LIFE!

\-------[End Dialoglog]-------

>Embrace savior.

You give Jack a BIG HUG while SHOWERING HIM IN PRAISES. He is surprised. Very much so.

Pixelsprite says some words of disgust and annoyance. You tell her to shut up, as not to ruin the moment.

Jack's blushing a red that would make beets look pastel pink.

>Austin and Jack: Start an adventurous bromance together!

You two have decided to band together to EXPLORE AND CONQUER Lotad!

There is a lot of toothpaste.

And dildos. Lots of DILDOS. So many, in fact, that it's probably TOO MANY.

Pixelsprite goes on to lament bitterly about this. And also, if someone doesn't second-tier prototype her, she's going to do it herself, and it'll be a dangerous weapon to murder everyone with.

That ferret needs to LIGHTEN UP.

>Adventure onwards!

You have been adventuring intensely together. You've been all over Lotad, and even headed to Jack's planet, the Land of Clouds and Mountains. You have fought many battles; earned so much grist. You've achemized the coolest, bestest weapons, and fought even greater fights with them. The consorts of both your lands idolize you as great heroes. They are your friends, and have helped you two on your quests.

You even got Pixel to shut up--threw in a roll of duct tape, and it worked like a charm!

Jack's sprite is a little more helpful, thank god. It's SepticEye Sam, who is much nicer, although you could've lived without the GLORY GREATEST COUNTRY every five minutes.

But all of it could not have prepared you for this: your latest foe. Some black dude (not African-American, actually the color black) just came up to you and FUCKING STABBED JACK THIRTY-SIX TIMES.

>Austin: Save him.

It's no use. You have nary a chance of helping him with any of the MEDKITS that have been alchemized; there's been too much BLOOD LOSS.

He's gone.

>Corpsesmooch time!

EW NO you're not going to MAKE OUT with the DEAD BODY of your friend! That's utterly DEPRAVED!

>Mourn Jack.

BURSTING INTO TEARS, you, your sprites, and the avian consorts of Locam gather around Jack for the HUMAN CORPSE PARTY, as the consorts call it.

You are all paying you respects when one citizen of Locam kindly informs you of an appropriate resting place for Jack.

>Head to resting place this consort speaks of.

You follow her, and the parade of everyone else follows you. It's not a long ways away, but it's uphill. She says this is the tallest mountain on this planet.

There it is: A BED, red with a symbol of a BLEEDING WOUND.

HOW FITTING.

>Let Jack rest in peace.

You say one final goodbye with a soft kiss on the forehead. As you step away from the bed, SMALL WHITE BUTTERFLIES perch utop him, covering the body of your friend.

It's BEAUTIFUL, POETIC, and ETHEREAL.

And with that, you and your procession head down to the base of the mountain.

>Be Jack.

There seems to be some confusion. You wanted to be Jack of the SEPTIC EYES, but in your quest to be Mr. Septic you've had a bit of a mix-up, and are now JACK NOIR, AGENT OF DERSE.

After going to stab some WORTHLESS WHORE, you are now heading back to your office. Served him right. Guy has no good reason to call himself that; his name is actually Sean.

>Be Jack-who-is-actually-Sean.

Now you are the proper man. Thank god too, he's less stabby.

>Jack-who-is-actually-Sean: Wake up on the Battlefield.

You awaken to a BLOODY WAR. What appear to be CHESS PEOPLE are currently battling. It's looking pretty GRUESOME, so you're just gonna stay in the SAFETY OF this DITCH.

>Examine current apparel.

The new clothes you are wearing appear to be PYJAMAS--made of soft red velvet. Something tells you this is the outfit of the HEIR OF BLOOD.

You have no idea what sorts of things that entails.

There's a figure on the horizon.

>Attempt to view figure.

You try, but due to your lack of glasses, it remains blurry.

Clearly, this HEIR THING does not give you great eyesight.

The figure is approaching, slowly becoming clear.

It's FELIX!

In BOOTY SHORTS?

\-------[Begin Dialoglog]-------

Felix: bro look at my fucking page outfit  
Felix: i thought page of space was a dumb title but i was wrong  
Felix: shorts like these were worth death

\-------[End Dialoglog]-------

WELL that wasn't what you EXPECTED. AT ALL.

>Ask Felix your impending question.

\-------[Begin Dialoglog]-------

Jack: So  
Jack: How do I go back?  
Felix: go back where  
Jack: To Locam  
Jack: My planet  
Felix: what did you forget your wallet or something  
Jack: No  
Jack: More importantly  
Jack: I forgot Austin  
Felix: your bf  
Jack: No!  
Felix: are you sure  
Jack: Yes!  
Felix: absolutely positively  
Jack: Absolutely!  
Felix: k just checking  
Felix: well thats pretty easy  
Felix: you fly there  
Felix: duh  
Jack: WAIT  
Jack: We can FLY?  
Felix: hell yeah  
Felix: id be doing it now if it didn't make me such an easy target

\-------[End Dialoglog]-------

>Fly to Locam.

You will, as soon as you can make sure you won't BE HORRIBLY MASSACRED. Though soon you will discover that you can DIE A COUPLE TIMES HERE, since the deaths would be neither HEROIC nor JUST.

>Be Austin again.

You feel pretty alone. It's only been hours since, but the tragedy was sudden. You haven't exactly done much since; just been STARING OUT THE WINDOW.

Locam may not be a bright place, but it sure is beautiful.

...!

You see something floating though the CLOUDS.

>Assess sky object.

You can't guess its exact trajectory BUT it seems to be heading toward your--well, actually Jack's--house!

It's not large, though, so you worry not about COLATERAL DAMAGE.

...If you don't know any better, you swear it's a HUMAN heading toward you!

>Futher assessment.

It's definitely A PERSON, who's getting closer!

It looks like... It can't be... It must be! The SKY FIGURE has vivid green hair!

>Open window.

You unlatch it as Jack approaches THE SILL.

\-------[Begin Dialoglog]-------

Austin: J-Jack? How can this be?  
Jack: I don't really understand myself, really  
Jack: But I revived on a place called the Battlefield  
Jack: And I headed here to see yurmph--

\-------[Interrupted Dialoglog]-------

>Kiss Jack.

You cannot KISS JACK, as you are ALREADY KISSING HIM.

You don't really RELIZE you're doing it at first. It a moment of intense EMOTION, you LOST TRACK OF YOURSELF.

But you are glad to say HE IS KISSING BACK.

Clearly, weeks of BROTHERLY BONDING haven't exactly been BROTHERLY.

>Felix: View from afar.

You fucking knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes are being weird.
> 
> Next: MatPat/Dan.


	5. DanPat - Casual Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan Howell and MatPat
> 
> Inspired by the lyrics of Casual Affair by Panic! At The Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their random number generator numbers are 6 and 9
> 
> Lol 69
> 
> Such Mature

Today so far had been your average weekday. You woke up, ate breakfast, looked for new theories, pointlessly browsed the internet, got lunch and drank too much diet coke. And it will continue to be a normal day.

You will be filming GTLive this afternoon. Sure, your wife is out of town for thirty-six days, but that's why you're going to have a guest today.

Dan Howell will accompany you today, and you're glad. Very few people will be interested in a month of streams with only you and the silent-but-deadly Peepachu. You need a foil, a counterpart to contest with.

The Brit said he was excited to come over, need needed something to do. Phil, apparently, was attending a wedding at a nearby Californian beach. Not wanting to send the wrong idea, they decided to not have Dan be the plus-one. Besides, it was going to be a small affair, and Phil's invitation was already a stretch for the guest list.

Thirty or so minutes before the stream, your guest arrives. "Hello," he says in his soothing accent. Dan steps in your home, assessing his surroundings. "Nice place," he comments.

You watch him while he is walking though the house. He's taller than you, certainly, and that's the first thing you notice. He's wearing all black, including a leather jacket. His skin is smooth and pale to contrast his hair, which is dark brown and ruffled. His eyes are bright, shiny brown orbs, and his lips are a bashful carnation pink and they're holding a small smile, possibly even a smirk. You should probably stop staring.

He glances back at you, waiting for you to tell him what to do before the stream. You offer snacks and guide Dan to the kitchen, and ask what he wants.

"Oh right, you Americans don't have Malteasers," he groans.

"What?"

"Malteasers, they're the best candy in the world. You Americans are living worthless lives without them."

"Well, maybe you can try some of our exotic cuisine," You tease as you open your fridge.

Dan scoffs. "Exotic. Like what? Bacon? Bacon on burgers? Deep-fried bacon? Bacon pizza? Or god, bacon candy?"

Your only response is laughter.

You're looking at Dan, so when you go to move the orange juice, you don't realize it's uncapped.

"Shit." You end up spilling half a carton all over your torso and legs.

Dan grabs some paper towels, and starts patting you dry. It's not very efficient. You should really go and change, but you let Dan proceed. It's an awkward scene for Jason to walk in on.

"Um... What's going on here?"

You jerk away. "Nothing! I just spilled OJ all over me. I'm gonna go change." While rushing upstairs, you mutter, "At least it wasn't diet coke."

When you're done, you return to find that they're sitting in the livestream room, so you join them.

You sit on the left, and Dan is on the right.

"Today, we're gonna be playing this game called Atmosphere." You say, pointing to where the computers lay. "It's the new game on Steam, but it's already becoming pretty popular. It's about pilots and airplanes, I think... Right Jason?"

"Uh-huh." He's fiddling with something, not really giving you any mind. Dan on the other hand, is invested in what you're saying, although he does have unexpected and unrelated inquiry:

"How long is your wife going to be gone?"

"She'll be coming back in three Thursdays. She's got some personal family thing." You would rather not go into it with a guy you only had internet communication with up until now.

"So you are going to have the house to yourself for a month?"

"Yeah." These questions are strange.

"Aren't you kind of going to be lonely?"

"Well, sort of, but I've got plenty of guests, and of course Jason's here." Honestly, why does Dan care?

"Well, Phil and I are actually going to be on holiday here for the next couple weeks, so you could always hang out with me." Oh. He just wants to hang out.

"Yeah. Maybe." If you get along today, you suppose there's no harm.

So far though, you're getting along swimmingly. You continue to converse until streaming time -- you find common ground in, of course, video games. You enjoy talking to him. You listen to his voice: it's smooth and sweet like honey, the British accent only adding more flavor.

It's interrupted by Jason saying it's time to start the stream.

You'd like to continue talking to your new friend, but you're also curious about the game. Besides, you can continue the conversation while playing.

Atmosphere is a aerial dogfighting game. Your customized avatar goes though an overdramatic plotline that's clearly a parody. You're invested in a combat level; not even paying much attention to the outside world until Dan reads a comment from the chat.

"Why are you so close to each other? Says FartyMindy."

Oh. You hadn't noticed that he was practically leaning on you. Not that you really mind, though. It's actually kinda nice.

He looks to the camera. "Well it's simple. This is the most comfortable position in this tiny room." True, it's a small place, but he could slide over a bit... Not that you particularly want him to.

The stream doesn't bring any other awkward moments, thankfully.

Afterward, Your new friend proposes you get dinner together, since he doesn't know where the good food is and doesn't want to go alone.

Normally, you'd decline such an invitation, but today you're pretty easy to convince.

So you take him to a nearby place, a little restaurant, in the middle of too crowded and too expensive, and hope he will like it.

The waitress seats you two in the corner, which is mostly secluded due to a decorative waterfall. A rather cool one too: it's got lights that give it the illusion of rainbow smoke floating around. The carpet is red; the wall paper is covered in small peonies. And in the center of your square table there are six yellow roses in a vase. Borderline romantic here, honestly.

You guys, of course, continue your discussion on your shared hobby, gaming. The releases out this month, the ones coming out this year, old favorites. It's all very innocent, and are glad to say it's going swell.

"So, who's visiting and when?" Dan inquires while you're waiting patiently for your food.

"Well, I've tried to fill up my schedule as much as I could. I've only got guests for half the days, though, so I'm on my own, mostly. But I'm gonna have a couple of returns. Nate coming on the twenty-fifth, though that is while away, but I'm sure everyone will be excited..."

Dan's staring at you, or you think he is. You assume that he's interested in your schedule, but it's not that intriguing.

And then Dan dropped his knife.

The loss of silverware. It happens, yes, quite often, you think, as he goes under the table to get it.

It's just that he pops his head out from under the table, and places his chin on your crotch. Your alarm bells are too curious about the ending of this situation to ring.

Someone kisses someone, you're not sure who, because the alarm bells ring after the fact.

Your lips take him in for a moment until your mind spits him out. "Stephanie..."

"Isn't currently present," Dan transitions from the floor to sitting on your lap, and a someone kisses someone again. "Hush-hush, don't you say a word."

You're going on like this for a time you'd rather not tell, but eventually Dan hops up and into his proper, moral seat when he sees the waitress coming.

Tonight, you're indulging on more than just pizza.

And when exiting the restaurant and heading for the hurricane, Dan's a steady cement buliding with steel foundation, and you're a sapling, held hostage by the wind.

It's your marital bed, the one on which you lay, in the atmosphere of hell.

_And only for tonight._

You understand the ceiling's dissappointed stare.

_I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it... I did it again._

You acknowledge the lights, and their faithless flickers.

_I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it... I did it again._

You start your car, which murmurs its dissapproval when you step inside.

_I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it... I did it again._

You only burn a piece of toast, but the fire alarm finds its opportunity for judgement and seizes it.

_I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it... I did it again._

You awake when Skip whips you with his tail, because he's got enough digits on his paw to count to five-too-many.

God, this should not have gone anywhere.

The worst part is after someone begs him to stay for as long as he has time. You two are becoming a mess.

You are given mercy when his two-week vacation ends.

However, the final goodbye is still a sickeningly passionate kiss. Afterwards, your body catches up to your brain, and rejects the past fortnight. At least now, your stomach is free from sin.

You aren't. Your own guilt manfests itself to haunt the items in your house. Home now gives you a cold, scalding stare.

Regret consumes you. Not about the ordeal in itself, however. You regret your own lack of regret, that fact that you enjoyed it, but not the enjoyment of it.

At least you still have a bit of time, to break that tie. An involuntary creation, plus the urge to cut it.

But you learn you can't, unless there's a way to cut pixels.

  
**I am greg  
** **Ive seen you  
** **I know your secrets.**

 

There's a file attached.

  
A picture of you and Dan in your bed...

You need to tell someone, if you want to live.

You can't tell anyone, if you want to live.

Surrending, you collapse on to the bed, and cry your eyes out.

It's your marital bed, the one on which you lay, in the atmosphere of hell.

At least it's a soft deathbed.

The blessing of a warm casket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this would be a humorous fic.
> 
> I lied.
> 
> However, I'm not lying when I say the next chapter is Phil/Jack!


	6. Amazingeye - The Voice in Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Jack...
> 
>  
> 
> And Anti.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the past thirty-one days, I got five chapters out.
> 
> Alright, let's aim for seven this month!
> 
> 1/7 completed

/Wake up, Sweetie pie!/

No, you tell him. You're trying to sleep, dammit!

/Well then, I guess you'll never see what I did last night.../ If you could see him, you know he'd be pouting. /And I was so proud.../

Panic throws you out of bed this fine morning. Fuck, what now? You rush out of bed, smacking your skull on the headboard, and go out to check.

There's been no visible change to the flat. You check outside your window. The people of Athlone remain unmolested.

/Nothing!/ He cackles.

Fuck you, Vuelxira, you respond. Pain-in-the-ass demon.

/It's just my job!/

Well, now you're too awake to head back to bed. You rub your aching head, which is echoing with Xira's amusement.

Sigh. It could've been a lot worse, you remind yourself. Your possessor doesn't win any gold stars for kindness, no, but at least he mostly limits it to petty thievery and vandalism. Even at his craziest, it's arson in abandoned buildings.

Sure, not great, but your can at least let yourself sleep knowing that the your body isn't being used to rape, murder, or kidnap.

Despite the show Xira, known as Antisepticeye to most, may have put on, the guy's biggest sin was being a trolling dickhead. And it really only affects you most of the time.

Like, when you have crush, for example, he's a huge dick. He claims that he's trying to help you, but it usually does more harm than good.

For example, when you had your first crush in fourth class. You were fine admiring her from afar but Vuelxira insisted that you ask her out... and to give her a bouquet of Satanic flowers that leaked inky darkness from their petals. As one could imagine, she rejected you.

In sixth class, there was Christina. This time, you gave her a purple daisy and convinced her to hang with you the next Saturday. It was awkward date, and you never spoke again.

Third year you managed to get a girlfriend. Rose was into bad boys; so Anti took charge there. But you started to feel guilty pretending to be someone you weren't and broke it off.

The one time he did help was when you were sixteen; you became infatuated by a boy. It threw you into a frenzy, but your demon did help you become secure in your bisexuality, even though you only keep it to yourself.

He's been trying to help throughout you adulthood years, but now that you're a bit older, you've got the sense to take his advice with a grain of salt.

But you've got a crush again, and you know what that entails.

You thoughts are separate unless you want to share them with each other. However, he can still see your internet browsing. He knows who you're into these days.

/Not a bad choice,/ he weighs in. /Beautiful bright blues, shing smile, adorable personality... Soooo handsome.../

Shut up, you reply, let me watch the video in peace.

The username doesn't lie: Phil is amazing.

You love his videos. You love his voice, his laugh, his optimism, his compassion. He's perfect.

/OMG, he's SOOO CUTE!/

You roll your eyes at the mockery, but pay him no mind. Phil is being cute after all. Honestly, it's hard to believe he's thirty.

/Phil and Sean sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G.../

And to think--you would never have guessed that you'd have something else in common with teenage girls besides a love for videogames.

/Are you sure you don't want my help?/

NO!

/I mean, I pride myself on being an excelent matchmaker. Just ask the last person I possessed. Well, you can't, she's dead now. But little Analise never would have met John without me!/

I told you, I don't want help! He barely knows I exist, for fuck's sake! I'm probably not even his type... He could even be with his flatmate...

/Alright, fine. But at least comment on one of his videos. I mean, you've been watching them constantly for months now, and you can't even be bothered to say anything? Honestly, Candy Bear, this is no way way to treat a man if you want his affections!/

You groan, but follow his instructions. It's not much, you just say that you think that the video is funny. A few replies declare that their lives are complete.

Eventually, one comment becomes two, then three, then four then eight. Then it's consistent twitter retweets, and then it's twitter conversations. You two regularly interact online now. He says he likes your videos, and you're thankful this screen is here to hide your tomato cheeks.

Anti shows you no mercy. You kindly thank him for the lovely images he projects in your shared head.

Today's a Thursday. You've got somewhere to go.

London.

You don't think much of it besides Anti's little jokes as you gather your overnight shit and schedule a hotel.

/There could be a chance encounter,/ he teases, /also, I can increase the chance of a chance encounter!/

Jaysus.

The day in London passes right though your head, not bothering to save a memory. You do what you need to do. You weren't enjoying yourself much, because Aunt Larissa is the worst, and that why you only go see her every couple of years. You grab a to-go meal from a mediocre chain restaurant, and drop coldly into the hotel sheets, allowing Xira go rogue on the streets of London.

He wakes you, but checking your clock, you see that it's only nine minutes later, and that instead of your possessor's concealing gear you are in your casual clothes.

/Guess who I just saw!/

He grasps control of your body. Whoosh. The super speed is the worst, because your feet should trip, but they never do; the ground slides like a conveyor belt on hyperspeed and the people can't see. One day you could be revealed by a misstep, but today, you roam free. The conveyor belt stops in a trashed alley. Most wouldn't be able to see much, but Xira here can give your vision a little boost. So you scan until you see.

Oh god, of course the damned spirit would have.

He clearly rushed out of the house. Black fringe pokes in every direction, glasses sit on the nose. Tonight, his runway outfit is an old shirt, a jacket, and a pair of jeans trying to make him look a little put together.

It's... Not a bad sight to be honest. You wouldn't mind seeing it again--

Before you can finish the thought, you feet are taking you in that direction. For once, you wish it was in hyperspeed. You fight him, walk in another direction, maybe he won't notice--

"Jack?" It's the hair, isn't it?

"Ph-Phil. Nice t-to see you h-here." You hope the twilight conceals your blushing, but you still don't want to look up.

"What are you doing in London?"

"I was v-visting-visiting an aunt off-of mine." You maintain steady eye-contact-- with the ground.

"Are you cold? You keep stuttering. Why didn't you bring a jacket?"

Oh, yeah, clothes aren't the most tolerant of super-speeding. Fucker better pick that up later...

"Uh, I was rushin' outta the hotel, ya know. I just need to get some... toilet paper! Yeah that's what I need..."

He realises your slip-up before you do. "Toilet paper? For the hotel? Can't you just call room service?"

"Oh-oh yeah, I uh, yeah I well um..." You yawn. "'M tired."

He chuckles. "I see that."

"Well, 'm gonna go home-hotel-to the hotel. See ya." You take sleepy steps in a direction. God, going that fast exhausts you.

"Wait!" You jerk you head in his direction, finally looking up at him. Blue globes reflect stray pieces of sunset and city nightime lights. Black hair to match the night, pale skin to contrast it. It's captivating.

"Are you going to be here tomorrow morning?" You give a little nod in response. "Well, do you want to go for coffee? I'll be free in the morning. I know a nice little place nearby. I can meet you at eleven."

"Yes!" You say, a bit too eagerly. "Eleven works fine!" A little prance is added to your tired step. He gives you a smile.

/I can hear wedding bells already!/

Shut the fuck up, Anti.

But you don't let the demon ruin your mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon, you'll enjoy some PewDiePlier!


	7. MatPhil - Seniors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt/Phil
> 
> A high school setting.
> 
> These two are the same age. They'd have graduated the same year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would think that two guys who good friends irl would be easy to write a chapter for. Lol no
> 
> After a week I decided that I'd rather come back to you with a decent product in ten days, than a shit one in a month.
> 
> I'll do it in June, when I can focus on this more.

"Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye  
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,  
And I am proof against their enmity." You recite quietly to yourself once more before showtime. You're not particularly nervous, but you're determined to make it perfect.

Phil comes up from behind, surprising you. You almost let out a yelp but are able to hold back. "Break a leg!"

The director announces that you're on in five.

And with that, you take a deep breath, and prepare for your last performance of your high school years.

Only twelve weeks until graduation. You wonder if you'll miss this place. You feel neither happy nor sad about it, you conclude. The only great sins and tragedies you ever came across were on that stage, where you found your greatest glory. You will going for a theater degree, that's for sure.

What you're going to miss most though, is definitely your friends. Yes, Austin, Nate, Mark, and even your new one, Phil.

Phil was the exchange student from Britain. He's only been here a year, but you two shared five classes together, so logically, it was best that you'd get acquainted. It wasn't hard though; Phil was an amiable cinnamon roll, and you shared a love for video games. Sometimes, you'd even share your game theories with him.

Your thoughts are cut short by the director. "Places, everyone!"

Phil gives you one final pat on the back, and you head to the wings to wait for your first scene.

"By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;  
He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.  
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far  
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,  
I would adventure for such merchandise."

You're supposed to keep your gaze fixed on you co-star, but you shoot a wayward one into the wings. You can see Phil, his face strawberry pink, although you assume it's just the lighting, since your face is starting to feel warm and looks to be a matching color in the thin reflections of the balcony rail.

The play is over. Yes, before you know it, you've danced through another's life, and finished it. For the last time on this stage. Everything concludes with a final curtain call and applause. A few of the faculty and your family give you a last congratulations.

You change out of your costume and exit the building, heading to the place you'd agreed to meet Phil after the show. You see him talking with another boy.

It's Dan, the other exchange student. He and Phil were friends back in England, but you two had never gotten aquainted, as he's a freshman who usually hangs out with the emo kids.

They were conversing before you had come over. The younger gives the other an encouraging nudge to the older one. "See you later," Dan says while skipping away, "and trust me, Phil! He'll say yes."

Phil turns to you. "You did great! You weren't even nervous!" You guys embrace.

"It's not that scary the twelfth time you do it." He giggles in response. "So, where we going?"

"Pizza?"

"Pizza sounds good."

The walk there is quiet, but not unpleasantly so. The cool, twilight breeze kisses your face while the beginnings of spring peak out of the ground.

The restaurant's lights shine like warm beacons in the young night. The radio plays the new pop hits, and the waitress behind the counter bounces along to the beat. You seat yourselves in a tomato red booth.

It's small talk until your curiousity can't wait any longer.

"Soooooo, who's the lucky guy?"

Phil looks up from his pizza. "What?"

"Dan was saying something about someone who'll say yes."

"Oh, yeah," he says, beginning to visibly blush. "I, um, kinda fancy this guy, but I'm nervous about telling him. Dan thinks that he likes me back, and that I should ask him to the prom." He attempts to hide himself behind his piece of pizza.

He liked someone? This was news to you. You're surprised that he told another before you; maybe even a bit--

No, not jealous, definitely not.

You grab his hand under the table. "Don't be nervous, I'm sure he'll go with you." After all, who could resist Phil? He's a handsome young man. He's got the whole package: marine blue eyes, jet black hair, tall stature, and the personality of a fluffy bunny. You're sure his crush will love it.

"Wait, has anyone asked you to prom?" He asks. You shake your head. "Do you want to go?"

You shrug. "I'm fine either way. Already got the prom experience last year. Although I don't plan on asking anyone."

He gives a small smile, and watches stray raindrops roll down the window.

"It's getting late," he points out, slurping the last drops of his drink. "We should get going."

"You got your overnight stuff?" Phil gestures to a his bag. He'll be staying over at your house tonight.

"Great, then let's go."

It's drizzing outside, but you don't mind. You're a man; you can take a little rain. Even if it starts to pour a little more. And more. And more. Okay, maybe you can't take a rainstorm. Certainly not a borderline flood. Drops are smacking your head, soaking your clothes, wrapping they're hands around your waist and kissing you-- wait, that's not the rain.

The streetlight is dimmed by the deluge, and it only barely touches you. No one else is crazy enough to be out here. It's a scene from a movie.

With that, Phil sweeps you off your feet and carries you bridal style down the rest of your street and places you on your front porch.

"Gah," You spit the water out of your mouth and wipe off your face.

"Sorry! I'm sorry! I-I just, well, Dan said that I should stop being a wuss and just do it before it's too late and ohmygod I'm sorry and um I guess and um well... Prom?" The last word was barely a squeak.

You giggle. He's shivering, whether from cold or nerves. The lights on inside illuminate his soft features. You're sure he's blushing. He's adorable. He's beautiful.

When he's clearly fearing that you'll decline, you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him "Yes."

Relief washes over him as you lean in for another kiss. This one pauses time, suspends between everlasting seconds. Its sequel is just as long. There's another. And another. And another. At this point you to are just having sloppy makeouts on the front porch.

"We should get inside," he interrupts the kiss. "It's cold out."

You two spend the night snuggling and watching movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/7 chapters completed
> 
> You know what's next, kids?
> 
> Septiplier.
> 
> SEPTIPLIER AWAY!
> 
> (Maybe now they will love me...)


	8. Septiplier (Away!) - Funfiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Septiplier time!
> 
> You're not the only one who enjoys fanfiction...
> 
> (Based on Azlinne's fouth prompt. Honestly, after seeing it, I just couldn't resist!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long...
> 
> I'm sure y'all're very excited...

You don't remember when it started, but you remember how it started. And you certainly weren't ready for _what_ it started.

It wasn't the purest hobby, even at its birth. But when you missed characters like they were real people, it was nice to return to them for an hour or two.

After your Undertale playthough was when you first considered writing fanfiction. Yes, you though it was an asinine idea when it bounced though your head for the first time. But as it got more comfortable up there, you realised that its asininity didn't make it a bad idea.

So you did it. Undertale opened up many possiblities; you started with a simple story.

"Toriel, Frisk, Sans, and Papyrus at the beach," now that didn't sound like a bad idea. You thought it would be rather cute.

What's the worst that could happen? was the last thing to cross your before you summoned for new document. You wrote. You proofread. You read it again. You felt content with your product. You opened a new tab, go to AO3 and click the 'post' botton. You entered shit in, and took a deep breath.

Posted.

Beach Day by HumanHighlighter

You didn't worry about these people finding you out. No one would suspect that the one and only jacksepticeye was writing among them.

Good thing too, because they wouldn't have given you the proper criticism if they knew. Of course, nobody was mean here. But your subpar writing needed proper treatment to become par, or even good, one day.

You never told anyone about it. Not out of shame, but, it wasn't a thing you wanted to mention. Your life was the same: same interests, same friends, same job. But now when you played a video game, sometimes you'd get an idea, and it would really just go from there.

There was good company. You met some fans of yours. They understood the reference in your username. Some even noticed a correlation between the games you played and the fics you posted. They talked to you about you. It was ironic in a way you kind of appreciated. It was a gold-plated time. People liked your fanfics. You liked theirs. Your write improved, and theirs improved too. Hell, you even made some friends. You sometimes wondered how they'd react

The gold wore off eventually, like your life was a pliable piece of jewelry.

It began with the break-up. Sure, it was amicable. You were still friends. You helped Signe remove her stuff from your flat, as she was going to live with her girlfriends now. The place was clear of her possessions now. Unfortunately, there was a mix-up somewhere. Her bronze necklace was still here. And your propriety must've ended up in one of those duct-taped boxes.

Of course there was an increase. It became slightly more plausible, one obstacle less to write around.

There was also an increase in your curiousity. It was there, present, visible, attainable. It ha always been.

It was a poison apple on a pendulum; you could have it, all you had to do was grab for it.

You went for it.

You'd seen it before, yes, but now you were daring to take it seriously. Now it was going to be your coping mechanism. Now you were trying to cure your own loneliness with it--

Actually, it-- and you kinda hate to say it--wasn't that bad.

Some were really good, brought a smile to your face. Some of it was bad, and made you cringe. Some of it was slightly messed up and you opted to just not. The Septiplier tag was just like every other one on this site. And considering everything, not that big. Definitely not ravenous or out of control, mostly just... creative. An interesting case study, if you were honest.

You had gotten a few requests before, but never really considered them. But the demand was growing...

You opened a new document, stepping into the dark hole.

It's how you got there, to this point.

The secondhand crush.

The way you could write it and it'd just be so _easy_. Too easy.

Never before have you wished you were horrible at something.

You knew the dynamic between you and Mark better than anyone else on this site. You would capture moments, little and big, that he and you had, and properly distort them.

You tried to lie to yourself, and say that it was because you were part of the pairing. It was a shitty lie, because half these distortions came naturally. Some never made it to electronic paper.

It just went on and on...

 

* * *

* * *

 

...and that's how you ended up here.

You enjoy visiting the US. You get to see your YouTube friends, your American fans, and this strange entity that they call 'the sun'.

Of course, you need somewhere to sleep tonight. Due to a series of shitty coincidences, you could not find a hotel to stay in. But Mark, being the nice man that he is, offers to shelter you tonight.

"Here you go," he says, revealing your place for the night. It's a sterile place containing few objects, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You thank him, and get settled in.

When your shit is where it needs to be, you collapse onto the mattress and stare at the alabaster ceiling.

Sharing a house with your crush. Oh boy. This can only end so well. Exposure to Markiplier through a screen already made your face burn. How will you manage to keep yourself together with the real deal?

"Hey, Sean!" Mark calls from downstairs. "We can eat whenever you want! But please let that be now, because I'm starving!"

You giggle. Typical Mark. You go check a mirror to make sure you look alright. After too much fretting you tell yourself it doesn't matter and head to the kitchen.

Your friend is already warming up something. You aren't as hungry as he is, since this a midnight snack to you, but who would deny food? Not someone who wants to be a polite guest with som to impress.

When they're done heating, Mark brings the to plates to table you're seated at. "Bonjour sir," he imitates a French accent as well as he can. "Today we have an exotic dish you've never tasted before: leftover pizza!" He becomes an Italian for the last two words. With imitations like that, you can only burst out in laughter.

Dinner goes well, at least from your perspective. With a comfortable energy in the air, it is easy to converse and joke around. Your feelings grow stronger, yet you're able to push them aside for this moment.

Exhaustion wants to interrupt this angelic evening. Your internal clock says it's 3 AM and your head says busy day tomorrow. You should drag yourself to your room and rest.

But you don't. After dinner your ass stays downstairs and you two go play videogames for the next couple hours. Webcam is nice and all, but it's nothing compared to sitting next to each other and playin--

Man, gaming is tiring, you think as you head bobs on your palm. Then, face meets sofa and thought trains crashland into a dreamscape.

Eventually, you're shaken out of sleep by a lifting force. Through your haziness you realise that Mark is carrying you, bridal style, to bring you to your room.

He places you gently onto your bed, and wraps the sheets around you, as if you were a glass vase he doesn't want to break.

"G'night, Sean," he says. Then, the air stays still for a moment.

After that noticeable pause for consideration, he gives you a peck on the forehead.

Your face goes from ivory to ruby. You're alert now, out of your tired blur, and you can't help but exclaim.

"Oh god I didn't know you're awake I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm just gonna leave now," he backs away, but something anchors him here.

You've got his hand.

You get up, and look right into amber gemstones.

"Love you too, Mark."

He similes. You smile.

Outside, copper stars shine in the stained-glass heavens...

 

* * *

* * *

 

You reread your writing. You make some minor changes until you're satisified with your story and are ready to post it.

The click of the post button doesn't give you the the same explosion of nerves anymore. The umpteenth Septiplier story was the new normal.

Gilded Pieces by HumanHighlighter for SilverShadowhawk

With that up, you head to bed. It's defiantly dark out on this submissive night. A silvery circle sends down a few strikingly soft rays. Meanwhile, the city gives off a gentle, intense aurora.

You look toward the moon. You gulp down the feeling of infatuation that is stirring in your stomach and is climbing up your throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an ending! I'm really proud of this one, guys...
> 
> Come back soon, when the ship will be Nate/Dan!


	9. Dathan - Remembering Sundae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's rebranding is going to ruin the easy ship names, but Dathan is not too bad.
> 
> I believe at least one of you was excited for this chapter. I'm kinda into this ship too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S NOT DEAD!!!!!!
> 
> If you guessed me, you are correct. But if you guessed my friend...
> 
> *Sigh* it's been a long eight months, but I'm back in the game, baby!

"Thanks for letting me stay, Nate, especially, on such short notice." You and Dan grab his luggage from your trunk. "Without you, I'd be fucked." Dan had previously been staying in a hotel, but due to an idiot messing up using a microwave, the hotel he'd been staying at had been set on fire. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt.

"Oh it's fine, man. I'm always here for a friend." You need the company, with your recent breakup... no, no, you're not going to think about it, no... "Where's Phil?" Good, a nice subject change. He tells you, but you're not paying attention, instead just trying to keep composure. _Don't cry, don't cry, you're almost over it,_ you chant in your head as you show Dan where everything he needs is.

It's only when you've gone to your room that you let anything out.

And in the evening, around an acceptable time for dinner, you clean yourself up and emerge from your room. You find that Dan's fallen asleep on your couch. Jet lag must be messing him up. He looks like a statue: still and silent. His mouth is slightly open. He looks kind of cute this way, is your first thought.

Your second thought is to cover his face in whipped cream. The angel in you says this is no way to treat guests. Your devilish side is already shaking the whipped cream. 

You start by aiming for the mouth; making in look frankly inappropriate, then add some dollops to the forehead, which still looks very sexual. You add more to the rest of his face, only pausing for breaks when you try not to laugh.

For your finale, you add a cherry and some sprinkles. You consider adding some chocolate sauce, but decide that would be too cruel, and besides, you've clearly shown you've committed to this enough.

You go back to your room, bringing back a healthy, balanced meal of sundae to eat while you do stuff that actually counts as work.

At 9:38 you hear noise. "WHAT THE FU--"

You fall off your chair laughing so hard, you don't even hear Dan coming until he comes into your room, still partially covered in whip cream and holding something in his left hand.

"So," he towers over you, "I get the feeling that Nate wants to battle."

"No!" You cry between laughs, curling up in self defense.

He sprays you while screaming at the top of his lungs. You try to get away, adjusting yourself into a running position and fleeing the room, though not completely clean. But Dan comes after you, yelling British insults, still shooting. His aim's not great, and a lot of it ends up on your walls and floor.

When you slide into the kitchen, you grab the chocolate sauce. Dan comes quickly afterwards, but now you are also armed.

"Hey, motherfucker! Look at me now!" You taunt as you open the sauce.

"Oh shut up! You're the one that started this!"

"And now, I'm gonna be the one that ends it," you squirt the the brown substance into his hair.

"Heheh, Poophead."

"Goddammit, that's disgusting-- I might be Poophead, but you're the real piece of shit," he dumps the sprinkles down your back. Most of them stay in your hoodie, but you can feel some fall into your pants. But don't have time to worry about that now. Your only concern right now is escaping the wrath of he who is not on fire.

Unfortunately, you don't make it far out of the kitchen. You slip on some whipped cream and your back hits the wall.

"Ha! You're cornered!" 

"No, no, no, spare me! Show some mercy!"

"Not likely." He shakes the can, ignoring your screams of protest. You shut your eyes and brace yourself.

You hear a cackle, then, a sputtering noise. You don't feel anything but a few drops.

"Oh fucking--not now!" He whines, now that he's defenseless.

You smirk, stepping towards him. He shrieks and runs, but not before you drizzle him a little.

Instead of chasing after him, you take a few steps before tucking yourself behind a corner and waiting.

It takes a few moments for Dan to realize you aren't following him any longer. He stops. Then tries to come back towards you, as quietly as possible, but you still hear his socks making contact with the floor. He passes by your spot unknowingly, until you inform him with a quick burst of chocolate.

Dog whistles wish they could be that high-pitched.

You leap at him, knocking both of you to the floor, where both of you become a tangle of limbs on the floor. Your faces are only an inch apart, leading to an awkward moment of silence. You stare into his bright brown eyes as his face turns from frustration to joy.

"You win, babe." He leans in closer to lick a bit of whipped cream of your nose. You respond by licking some chocolate off his cheek. Not knowing what else to do, you imitate the move, licking up some cream on his cheek, which he responds to by licking your chin, moving his tongue upwards and licking your lips. When he goes in for the kiss, it's soft, and tastes like sugar. You pull away before the point of no return, not wanting to regret anything that could happen next, but feel worse for stopping.

It being to late now, you go to clean up in the bathroom. A shower and a clean set of pj's gets rid of the sexy bukkake look, then you leave the bathroom to your guest, before you get rags and proceed to clean up the mess.

"Let me help, it's half my mess," The voice from behind startles you.

"You're the guest. You aren't supposed to clean."

"Well, you're not supposed to cover your guests in whipped cream while they sleep, either." Dan retorts. He's got you there. You throw him the floor cleaner. You make small talk, trying to fill the vacant silence, in an active effort not to overthink anything.

"I'd like to thank Mr. Clean for removing the sticky white stuff from my wall," you joke. "Mr. Clean is always there for me when I need a helping hand for a good rubbing. I like to smash him against the wall." Dan gives you a disapproving look, although he's clearly stifling a giggle.

"Oh, he's not that good. Look, he missed a spot." He points at somewhere, but you don't see anything. "There's something on your wall."

"What? Where on the wall--" You ask, right before being pushed against it. Dan comes closer to you.

"It's you." He smirks sexily.

You know what he wants. And maybe, you want it too. You cup his face, and move your mouth towards his ear. "Promise that you'll never tell anybody about what's happened tonight," you whisper.

"I promise." he whispers back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the dirtiest thing I've ever written.
> 
> Tune in next time for some Robert/Austin!
> 
> And I promise a much shorter wait this time.


	10. Roustin - In Space, No One Can See This Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is complete crack and I'm sorry
> 
> This pairing is not ripe with ideas
> 
> I can be certain that the number of fanfics like this is probably less than three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom binches I'm back

You are the captain of this ship. You are in control. No one can board the ship without a permit.

"I am Captain Robert [REDACTED] of this goddamn ship, and I, as captain order you shitweasels to hitch you ride somewhere else!"

Oh no. You've made a critical mistake: ferrets hate being called weasels. The ferrets are offended. They hiss as their eyes glow, readying to shoot.

You have no choice but to surrender to their will. "Fine! I'll take you wherever you want! But I expect 800 qaty per setykf--" A laser shot grazes your shoulder. "650?" Another warning shot. "500?" No firing. The deal is made.

You walk to your pilot station, remembering when humans ruled the world. You have very little to recollect to though, since the Ferret Takeover happened when you were eight. Life hasn't been the same since then. Your father was kicked out of his dignified position as as royal court stripper, a family legacy for nearly four hundred years. You went from noble to commoner overnight, and now you work the peasant job of hyperspeed transporting, which is totally lame.

Normally, the job is quite boring, but every now and then, your spaceship is invaded by the ferrets, and you have to surrender to them or face death by lasers.

<i>Bing bing!</i> Your space door's opening. Those fucking ferrets found more fucking friends. You sigh, leaving the pilot station to see if this new lot will pay you some.

Instead of more ferrets, however, there is a man in a mask and a cape with a device; you recognize this to be a freeze ray. He's got all the ferrets in the room suspended in time. You have so many questions, but you start with the basics:

"Who are you, and why are you on this ship?"

"I can't tell you my name, for it is confidential. You may address me as my alias, Peanut Butter Gamer." He dashes around the room, grabbing the suspended ferrets. "I've been chasing these weasels down for their crimes against humanity."

With all the ferrets gathered, he pulls a metal stick out of his pocket, unfolding it demension by demension--it's a cage, something that's been banned since the Takeover. He puts the creatures inside.

"Take me to Sklas." He commands, looking you right in the eyes.

"Sir, this isn't a busship. There are many packages to deliver, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave, or else I'll report you to the Head." You try to imitate his confidence and calmness.

"I'll give you a thousand qaty." He places the money onto your hand. You didn't know that physical money even existed anymore.

"I don't have an authorized bank account, so I can't feed it into yours automatically. However, these are what the little black line under the bank screens are for."

"Why don't you have an account?"

"Because..." He pauses for a moment, "the Government would track us down."

"The Government can track anyone down. Everyone's got a record, cams are at every station, your ID needs to be scanned to purchase everything..."

"They're lying. If you know how to do it, it's surprisingly simple."

"I can't believe the Government would lie to us. Is that even legal?" If this is true, it would be the biggest political scandal in all of history!

"It's an ancient political tradition, and since they're the ones in power, it doesn't really matter if it's legal." He sits down. "Now please, drive."

You head to your pilot station. "My family used to be part of the Government, you know, until the Takeover. Does that mean my family was full of liars?"

"Probably." He is very casual about this space-stattering revelation.

"Do I have to keep this a secret?"

"Not for much longer. The Peoples of Earth Negating the Invasion of Shitweasels is rebelling against both the Ferret Takeover and the Government. And not to brag, but I'm one of the top agents there. For the past six years, I've been one of the greatest things to happen to PENIS."

"So PENIS is rising up? How big is it?"

"PENIS is huge, trust me. And it's already started to get in to the deep places. But let me tell you, it's been pretty hard."

You turn to look at him. "What's it like, being in a secret resistance movement?"

"Well, it's pretty cool." He puffs up his chest in pride. "One time, I was supposed to infiltrate a space base. I went in, and stole their power crystal. However, going in, I made this teensy little slip-up, and went into an area with cameras, so they knew I was off to steal their power. Six large guards came at me all at once, but I was able to fend them off and escape to my spacepod."

"Really?" You can't turn around in the driver's seat, but from your stance, you attempt to learn in as much as possible.

"It took one really big cliff jump, but I lost them all."

"Cliff jumping?"

"As an enemy of the state, you have to make daring escapes all the time. Jumping cliffs, dodging lasers, hotwiring ships, you do it--sometimes all at once, like on Vaalay. Of course, I didn't do it alone. I work with lots of other people..."

You remember seeing that on the news last year: MASKED VIGILANTES INVADES VAALAY PALACE. Infamous as the most defended fortress in this system, Until last January. Sklas... that was a tourist planet. What could be there?

"What's on Sklas then, if you're fighting the Government?"

"Oh nothing. I'm a professional, not an idiot, dude. You really think I would go directly to my mission?"

Oh, yeah...

"So where are you going then?" And in your mirror, you see the look PBG is giving you.

"Heheheh, right."

"Anyways, we're almost here." You can see Sklas's green swirls now. "See the red dot? That's where you'll want to park."

"Okay." You descend into the dank atmosphere. And while the ride seemed so mundane, you remember that you have just taken a wanted man, who works to free humankind for the dastardly ferrets.

As you go down, your hopes go up.

"Good luck with your revolution," You say, as he prepares to depart.

"Good luck with your shipping," he replies. "And when the Government cumbles... call me." He winks.

Then he's off. There goes the Peanut Butter Gamer, fighting for justice. And though you haven't seen his face, you find his nobility pretty handsome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the weirdest thing I've ever written, but there's a MLP fanfic that's I wrote in sixth grade it's got to compete with.
> 
> Join us next time for some Phil and Nate!


	11. AmazingNate - Courtship Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil goes on a Florida vacation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I didn't mean to go away for a month, but this chapter's over 2000 words, so maybe you can forgive me. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also fuck chronology. Shit's for Game Theory.

Florida's sunshine greets you warmly. You always love holidays here. Manchester could never compete with this paradise--there aren't enough beaches or palm trees back home.

You see the place through the cab window before you get to experience it. You don't have wait too long, however. As soon as you get to the house you grab your swim trunks and head for sand. Dusk is approaching, but you don't care too much. You're an adult now, and you can do whatever you want. You put on your swim trunks and go to the shore, hoping you can beat sunset there.

You do, and when you arrive, you can see the rings of pink and peach emerging from the horizon, contrasting the baby blue sky. It's a beautiful sight; you take it in, knowing that it's only here for a few moments.

Luckily, the beach will stay. You remove your shoes and feel the sand between your toes, still a little warm from the day's light. You walk toward the waves, eager to dip your feet into the water. It's cool and calming. The tide crashes against the sand, and your breathing starts to match the rhythm as you watch the sky become a cascade of fiery colour. Thump, thump, goes your heart.

It takes you a while to realise that the beat comes from nearby music, and not from within. Interested, you head to the source--a bar with a patio you can't remember the name of, the music getting louder.

"Hey, are you heading to the Caravel too?" A man about your age and height comes to your side, smiling. He's tan, handsome, and soaking wet in a pair of trunks. "Because I need directions." He touches your shoulder.

"It's just down the beach, you just follow the music, until you see the lights and band."

He gives another smirk. "Thanks." He runs off, the wet cloth sticking to his body. Not that you're looking.

The Caravel is not far, the bright strobe lights replacing the sun as night begins. You can hear the music, more the bass than anything else. You sit, counting your dollars to see what you can buy--you choose a soda and chips/fries, and sit down near the patio where couples and families are dancing in front of the band. A raggae band says goodbye to the audience.

"Next up--ooh, first timer--Please welcome Nathan Sharp!" Clapping ensues as a person walks up to the stage, carrying a guitar case. It's the guy you saw earlier, only he's dry, and has a different outfit on--very emo. When he's set up, he takes a breath in, a little nervous, and starts to play. He's got a lovely voice, and he's much less tense when he gets enveloped in the music, seemingly forgetting the crowd dancing in front of him.

As _one night and one more time_ becomes _we're going down, down_ and _beautiful scars on critical veins_ transitions to _Oh, it's Saturday night_ , it becomes clear that this dude has a genre. He finishes with loud applause, particularly coming from the younger folk in the audience.

The next group goes up and Nathan leaves the platform. You've finished your chips, and head to the bar. You'd like more chips, but should you order a beer? You sit and ponder this difficult decision.

"Hello again." Nathan seats himself beside you.

"Oh, hello," you reply, "uh, nice performance tonight. You played really well." You smile sincerely.

He blushes lightly. "Thanks. It's my first time playing in front of a crowd, ever, so I was scared as hell. Was it obvious?"

"A little." His face darkens. "But since it was also your very, very first time, I think it can be excused!" His small smile returns, so you've saved yourself. Probably. Let's change the topic. "So, are you from out of town?"

"Well, you could say that. I live nearby though." He bites his lip. "What's your name? And what about you? Judging by that accent, I'm going to say 'no'."

You chuckle. "Yeah, no. I'm Phil, from England. My family's visiting Florida."

"A British accent in America? Does it impress the ladies?"

"Sometimes, but my personality scares them away. I'm not very good at romance. I can never tell if someone's flirting with me!" You both laugh.

"So, what are you getting? Any recommendations?" He inquires.

"I think I'm just going to get fries."

He smirks. Signaling the attention of the waiter, he says, "Two orders of fries, please." A waitress comes and gives you two your order and then you guys go sit at a table near the patio to watch the band. Twilight has settled in, and at the distance you are from the ocean you can feel sea breeze and sea spray. Open mic time is now over, so now there's a hired guy playing nice piano tunes, and the crowd is dwindling as the families leave. 

"It's nice out. I rarely get to see the beach above its surf--with my busy schedule." You nod absentmindedly, not quite listening. "It's very warm out. Also windy. Is it usually this windy?"

"Well yeah, since we're right near the sea."

"Right, right." He pauses for a moment of good, hard thought. "Do you want to dance?"

"Dance?" The request is a bit unprecedented, but there's nothing too disconcerting about it. "Sure, but I'm not very good at it."

"That's okay. I can guide you through the basic steps. C'mon." Nathan grabs one of your hands and takes you to the mostly vacant patio. "Alright, just follow me." He puts your hands in the right position. "So, you move your feet with mine." He demonstrates. "Watch me. One, two, three, four. Five, six, sev--woah!"

He catches you as you stumble. "Okay, definitely not going to into the twirl." You're laughing, unable to reply. "Let's try again," he says once you're upright, "slower this time." It's a little easier at this pace. You're awkward, but you can settle into a rhythm for the night, until the place closes.

Upon exiting, you say your goodbyes. Nathan doesn't have a phone number, but you agree to return here tomorrow at the same time.

And even though your head hits the pillow at twelve, you awake at six in the morning. However, since you're at the beach, why not enjoy every minute of it? So you go down, to a place you discovered last year: a quiet part of the beach with little tide pools and rocks for the water to crash on.

You grab a coffee and a bagel on your way out, ready to enjoy a peaceful breakfast. It's the solitary place you expected, except for the seagulls that are startled by your arrival. You sit on one of the smooth rocks,   
one where you don't get that wet, and swirl your toes around in a pool. Hey, what's that over there? 

Something's dangling on one of the rocks. You get up, grab and inspect it. It's a black top that looks like it could have been part of your companion's outfit last night, but since it is just a plain t-shirt, it could belong to anyone. You hang it back on its rock so that whatever plastered idiot left it here can find and retrieve it.

Placing it back allows you to notice that a pair of jeans is lodged between rocks. Someone got very drunk last night.

It's not until you see the jacket Nate wore last night bobbing around in the seafoam you accept it's probably him. But he couldn't have been plastered, because you didn't watch him drink anything and his coordination was better that yours sober.

There's a trainer in one of the tide pools. Another shoe a few meters away. Curious, you follow the trail.

A few steps further lies... pants. Oh, geez. Do you want to find out? As you step away, fine with leaving this mystery unsolved, you see little crimson drips.

It's blood. Oh god, it's blood. Heart racing, you follow this more horrific trail to a tide pool, stained red. And next to it, a body. The torso of a man--Nathan--covered in wounds disturbs you. The fish tail, silver scales bloodied, connected to it makes you almost scream.

"Are you okay? Is that real?" You kneel down to over him over, face side up.

Nathan brushes sand off his face. "No, and yes," he whimpers. "Fucking sirens and their stupid claws."

"Aren't you a siren?" You try to wipe the sand off with your sleeve.

"No. I'm a mermaid. Note the fish tail. Sirens are bird creatures that kill humans. Or me, in human form. Hey, I've got a towel, right over there, which can do better than your sleeve. Grab that for me, thanks." You give him the towel and he wraps around himself, cleaning himself off, which turns his tail back into legs.

You can't call medical services, so you offer to patch him up at your vacation home, since it's not far from here. "If you cover your cuts up enough, nobody will be suspicious."

He hesitates, but lacking better options, agrees to follow you to your place. "Lemme grab my swim trunks first." The injures seem mostly skin deep, so while walking is unpleasant, it is possible.

Luckily, your parents aren't home. OUT TO EAT. BACK AT 11, announces a note on your countertop. At least you don't need to explain this to your parents. "Wait here," you instruct, and grab the first aid kit under the sink and pull out the gauze, antiseptic, and cotton balls.

"What's that?" Nathan gives a puzzled look at the dampened cotton ball.

"It keeps the cuts from getting infected. Hold still, it'll sting." He winces as you rub it on his shoulder. Then you apply the bandages. When you're done, he kind of looks like a mummy.

Afterwards, you make some tea for the both of you, and set both mugs on the kitchen table. Your guest tries to sip it, immediately regretting it. "It's hot. It's really hot!"

"That's why you add milk. Or you let it sit for a bit." 

"I knew it would be hot, but I didn't know that tea could get this hot." Huh. Just how much did this merman know about the human world? Why did he come in the first place? You wonder as you get him some ice cubes to put in the tea.

"Thanks," he says, although he puts the ice in his mouth instead of the drink.

"if you're a mermaid, what--" 

He interrupts you, "Alright, the questions. I knew they'd be coming. I'm actually surprised you waited this long. One, yes, mermaids get legs when they walk on land. Two, yes we can see your human stuff. It's the twenty-first century, we have computers. Three, no, we can't do any magic. Four, you're not allowed to tell anyone. We don't want to reveal ourselves to the species who elected Trump for president. Or for Brexit." He recites it like a script.

"So what are you doing here on land? Or at least, what were you doing last night?"

"Well, since I'm living on my own this year, nobody can tell me what to do, and I've always wanted to go to the surface and try human things." He fidgets nervously with the towel.

"Was yesterday your first time up here?"

"No, last week I went to New York City, since movies say you can be weird there. I tried food. I had a 'pizza.' Strangest thing I've ever had. This week, I wanted to go and see if Florida was the hell they say it is."

"Is it?"

"On Tuesday I saw a naked old man on a bicycle." He shivers at the memory. "But this town is pretty calm. I went to a restaurant bar, which is a place that is often used in human courtship rituals."

Courtship rituals? As in... "Were you flirting with me?"

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "Isn't buying food for someone and partner dancing flirting? Was I wrong about that?"

"No! I mean, you're not wrong. That's definitely flirting." You can feel the redness rushing to your pale cheeks. "I'm just really, really bad at romance."

"Clearly," he snarks, looking a little downtrodden. "It's okay, we don't have to continue. As humans say, 'plenty of other fish in the sea.'" Great. Thanks to your social incompetency, you made a nice little mermaid sad.

"We don't have to stop. You seem very nice. I would love to hang out with you more." You say, putting your hand on his. "So, are we still on for tonight?"

"I can't exactly go anywhere in this state. Can we be on right now?'

"Sure. I've got some things to do here. Have you ever played jenga? Probably not, it couldn't work underwater..."

Curiosity piqued, he follows you to your room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be Robert and Mark. In the meantime, feel free to submit your theories on how the mermaids can get CNN. Or play guitar.


End file.
